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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24375745">My Best Friend's Brother</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey'>Spoodlemonkey</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Hockey RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Auston and Connor are seniors in highschool, Blow Jobs, First Time, Freddie as Auston's older brother, Humiliation, M/M, No one is underage here, Not Hockey Players (Hockey RPF), Sexual Inexperience</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:00:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,701</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24375745</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoodlemonkey/pseuds/Spoodlemonkey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor's got a bit of a (massive) crush on Auston's older brother. </p>
<p>Or,</p>
<p>For some reason he'd thought once you turned eighteen the wet dreams stopped.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frederik Andersen/Connor Brown</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Best Friend's Brother</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HUGE thanks to GreyMichaela for reading this over, the first draft was uh...a little different. Everyone here is of legal age and consenting, though Freddie has far more experience than Connor in this. </p>
<p>Don't own the boys. Stay safe &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tuesday nights usually find Connor over at Auston’s house. Allegedly it’s for homework. Tuesday afternoon means history with Mr. Chara, which in turn means enough reading assignments and short essays to make their eyes bleed. So Tuesday nights they get together for moral support in an effort not to fail his class. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Early on it became more about video games and street hockey, either one on one, or sometimes with a few of the other boys around their age that live on the street.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It also happens to be the night Auston’s parents go out for date night, leaving the house to Auston, Connor and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Freddie.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freddie has been a problem since he came back from Europe after his gap year to start looking into colleges and universities in the area. Two years older than them, he doesn’t look anything like Auston, aside from his height and their mother’s dark eyes. He’s broader in the shoulders and chest, skin pale like he doesn’t get out in the sun much, and has his father’s darker shade of red hair. Darker than Connor’s own which looks more clownish than the model that Freddie must be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s basically had a hard on for him since he walked in one Tuesday and finally met the brother Auston had been talking about. He’d been awkward and tongue tied and had probably made an ass of himself. He’d also gone home and had his first wet dream in years about Freddie holding him down and jerking him off till he </span>
  <em>
    <span>cried.</span>
  </em>
  <span> For some reason he’d figured once he’d turned eighteen those kinds of dreams would stop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things haven’t really improved since then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tuesday night arrives and Connor pedals his bike the short few blocks over to the Mattews place. Compared to Connor’s home, the Matthews place is massive- three floors, a master bedroom, Auston’s and Freddie’s rooms, and two extra guest rooms. They have a spare Wednesday morning so lately he’s just been crashing in one of the guest rooms and heading in with Auston. It’s their final year at their hell of a high school and they’re counting down the days until they’re finally done. It’s getting later in the year, the weather warmer, the snow long since melted and teachers are getting laxer in enforcing homework and readings in preparation for the chaos of June and exams. It’s a small mercy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lets himself in with the spare key hidden in the mail box. He leaves his shoes in the front hall, hefting his backpack higher over his shoulder. Auston’s in the living room, sprawled out on the couch- phone pressed to his ear and a paused game of CHEL on the television. He waves at Connor, mouths ‘Mitch’ and Connor knows he’ll be waiting awhile. Something that has changed in the past few months, Auston’s apparently met the love of his life. Mitch is a late transfer to their school, in their grade, and is literally made of sunshine. Connor gets it- if Mitch were his type he’d fall head over heels too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately his type is more complicated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor waves him off and heads for the stairs- he can dump his bag in the room he always uses and mess around on his phone (or actually do his homework) until Auston’s done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Auston’s parents are already gone for the evening and won’t be back until late, but the door to Freddie’s room is ajar as he pads silently down the hallway. He tells himself he’s not going to stop, not going to look. He’s not that pathetic, okay? He can handle this crush.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But as he’s going by he catches a sound, a bitten off groan and his heart stops. Is something wrong? What if Freddie is </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’s dropped his bag and crossed the distance to his room before his brain catches up with the rest of his body. He can’t see anything through the crack in the door. He pushes the door open further, and honestly it’s worry that prods him on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turns out he had nothing to be worried about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freddie sure as hell isn’t hurt, that’s the first thing he realizes. The scene comes to him in pieces- the sounds of Freddie’s heavy breathing, the clothes tossed carelessly on the floor, miles of gorgeous pale skin- and then all at once- Freddie sprawled out on his bed as he fucks his fist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor forgets how to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then everything stops and he realizes Freddie’s spotted him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Freddie stares at him, expression curiously blank and Connor knows he’s about to get his ass kicked. He grabs a pillow, covering his crotch but Connor’s already seen his cock- hard and huge and perfect, he’s going to be dreaming about it for years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry!” he squeaks and tries to look away but dammit, Freddie is flushed all the way down his chest, disappearing underneath the pillow and Connor’s absolutely entranced by it. His mouth is dry as the desert and he has to swallow to try and unstick his tongue from the roof. “I thought I heard groaning and I, uh, guess I did, but I swear I thought you were in pain or something!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freddie’s staring at him like he’s crazy, which, fair. But he’s not throwing anything at Connor or yelling at him, or fuck, calling Auston up there to tell him what a perv his friend is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor catches his gaze drifting down Freddie’s chest again and he jerks it back up, hoping that he hasn’t noticed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor,” Freddie says and Connor shivers at the rough, gravelly tone to his normally soft voice. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to talk to him again, knowing what he sounds like when he’s turned on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” He licks his lips. Is it hot in there? He feels like he’s burning up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Close the door.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh shit! Yeah, of course.” He springs into action, feeling like a fool for ogling his best friend's brother, for being so obvious. He grabs the doorknob, ready to beat a hasty retreat (and maybe beat off).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Close the door,” Freddie says again. “And come here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s pretty sure this is what it feels like to have a heart attack. His head’s a little fuzzy, his chest sore from how hard his heart is pounding. He could leave, he thinks briefly, get the fuck out of there and go hide out with Auston and hope he can survive all of the future awkwardness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closes the door quietly and comes to stand next to the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freddie’s room is pretty bare, all things considered. A desk, a closet, some photos of family, of friends, of his travels around the world. Nothing that shows a girlfriend or boyfriend, he notes. Not that he’s looking or anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m really sorry,” Connor mumbles. His face is burning; it’s not a great look for him, cheeks as red as his hair. He’s seen how it looks, in the mirror, it doesn’t look anything like the tempting flush decorating Freddie’s skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This isn’t your house, you can’t just go walking into any room you want.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Humiliation and guilt curdle in Connor’s stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I swear I’ll never do it again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Freddie sighs. “You really killed the mood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor didn’t think he could flush any further. He was so wrong. He feels like he’s going to spontaneously combust if he doesn’t die of embarrassment first. He’d liked looking at Freddie from afar, where it was safe, where he couldn’t get his feelings hurt, turned down because he wasn’t handsome enough, he was too young, because Freddie just wasn’t into him. It hurts just as much as he’d imagined it would.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freddie pulls the pillow away and there’s his cock- hard, an angry red, the foreskin pulled back to show the head. He’s thicker than Connor, longer too. His mouth waters at the sight and he has to jerk his gaze away before he makes an even bigger fool of himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How about you make it up to me?” Freddie suggests. The pillow gets tossed on the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor blinks. “What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freddie wraps one big hand around himself, jacking his cock slowly. He stares up at Connor, eyebrow quirked, the challenge clear in his gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want to make it up to me, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor finds himself nodding. It’s with a start that he realizes he’s achingly turned on, his cock hard and throbbing where it’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. Freddie’s hand falls away and his cock rests against his stomach. Connor’s mouth drops open as he tries to breathe. “C’mere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor scrambles up onto the bed, between Freddie’s legs, pausing only when Freddie reaches out, tugs at the hem of his shirt until he gets the hint and yanks it off, over his head. He tosses it away, unconcerned. Freddie’s hands are </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He runs them across Connor’s skin like he’s something precious, fingers tracing the dips and ridges of his chest, his stomach. His touch is gentle, exploratory. He arches into it, at the teasing caress, shivering. He’s hooked up before but they’ve been quick, hurried things. No one’s taken the time to trace the dip in his collar bone, to smoothe across the soft skin of his stomach. His touch is gentle until it’s not, then his nails scratch, leaving vivid red marks and his fingers pinch, catching Connor’s nipples, teasing until Connor is shaking, mouth dropped open, caught up in the sensations. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you ever sucked a cock before, Connor?” Freddie’s hands fall away and he’s left rocking after the touches, like he might float away without them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Once,” he gasps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me guess.” Freddie’s smile is sharp, full of teeth. He slides his hand around the back of Connor’s neck and squeezes, like he knows it’s what Connor needs right now. “Summer camp?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor says nothing and Freddie laughs. He uses his grip on Connor’s neck to pull him back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to suck me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s cock twitches in his jeans. He’s tongue tied, his mouth watering at the dirty, illicit thought he’s spent so long not thinking about. He nods eagerly, cheeks so hot he imagines Freddie must be able to feel the heat off of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes or no,” Freddie prompts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he rasps and Freddie gives him a sweet smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get on the floor,” he instructs. “You can use the pillow for your knees.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor’s limbs are slow to respond and he stumbles as he gets off the bed. It all feels surreal as he kneels there, lets Freddie position him however he wants, like he’s going to wake up at any moment, his boxers and sheets sticky from another wet dream that will never come true. Freddie’s nails bite into his skin as he takes hold of him by the back of his neck again, urging him forwards. His other hand is wrapped around his cock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Open up,” he murmurs. “Gotta be fast, we don’t want Auston wondering where you’ve gone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor gasps at the reminder of Auston, just down stairs, and Freddie uses the opportunity to slide his cock slowly into his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s huge, surely he’s too big, stretching Connor’s lips so wide it feels as though they won’t go any further. His jaw starts to ache quickly, working to accommodate the width of his cock. And barely any of it is in, he realizes. Freddie’s fisting the rest, the head resting against the back of Connor’s tongue. He presses too deep and Connor gags. Freddie eases his cock back out and Connor whines, humiliated that he can’t even handle that much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh.” Freddie presses his thumb against his bottom lip, urges him to open up again. “It’s alright. We’ll try again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slides in again, less this time, though Connor still feels the weight on his tongue, the stretch of his lips and ache of his jaw as he eases his cock in. He fists the rest, steadily, surely, expecting Connor to just sit there and take it, a warm, wet place to rest his cock. Connor flushes hot at the thought. He tries to make it worth it, working his tongue, his lips, swallowing around Freddie’s cock even as spit pools in his mouth and dribbles down his chin. He wants to make it good enough that Freddie will want him to come back again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just like that,” Freddie sighs and his hips jerk, forcing his cock deeper. Connor gags and Freddie eases back, but only far enough that Connor doesn’t feel like he’s going to throw up. “Next time we’ll have more time. I’ll teach you how to suck cock properly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor whimpers, palming himself through his jeans. Fuck, he’s going to come like this, on his knees, still in his pants with Freddie’s cock in his mouth,. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freddie grunts, hips rocking. His cock slides along Connor’s tongue, leaving spurts of precome there. It’s bitter, sure as hell isn’t his favourite, but he moans at how full he feels, wonders what it would be like with Freddie fucking him instead, how full he’d feel then.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just hold still, okay?” Freddie pants and Connor realizes he’s about to come. He panics a little, unsure if he’s supposed to swallow or if Freddie will try to fit more of his cock in his mouth. He comes with a soft gasp, fist working as he spills over Connor’s tongue. It feels like he comes forever, coating Connor’s tongue until he’s forced to swallow, lest it spill down from his lips. It doesn’t taste great but he ignores it, focusing on the way Freddie’s gazing down at him, eyes dark, expression hungry. He eases his cock out gently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lets Connor catch his breath before he’s sliding two thick fingers into his mouth. He runs them along Connor’s teeth, pushes down on his tongue and urges his mouth open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good boy,” Freddie says, voice warm, pleased, and Connor comes with a whine, the heel of his hand grinding against his crotch. He soaks his boxers and jeans, shivering through the most intense orgasm he’s ever had. He’s panting, shaking by the end of it as aftershocks wash over him, his cock twitching, sensitive where it’s trapped in his rapidly cooling clothes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sags and Freddie catches him, urges him to rest his head against his thigh and catch his breath properly. He drifts, caught up and secure in the space between Freddie’s thick thighs. Nothing can touch him there, not unless Freddie allows it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually Freddie brushes his hand through Connor’s hair, across his jaw, pressing teasingly at his swollen lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d better go shower,” he says and Connor lifts his heavy head. “Otherwise Auston is going to take one look at you and know what you were doing in here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor shivers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He manages to push to his feet. Freddie sprawls back on his bed, toying with his phone as Connor searches for his shirt. He hesitates by the door, feeling like he should say something, wondering if this is a one off thing, if he’s allowed more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Freddie doesn’t glance over though, so reluctantly he pulls the door open, scooping up his bag where it sits in the hall. Distantly he can hear the sounds of Auston on the phone. Thank fuck, he doesn’t think he could sit through hours of video games with his come drying in his shorts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Connor,” Freddie calls out before he can close the door. He pauses, chest throbbing, boxers soaked, the most relaxed he’s felt in ages. “Your number hasn’t changed, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, it’s the same.” Fuck, his voice is wrecked. Auston’s going to know for sure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Freddie gives him a knowing grin. “I’ll text you mine. For next time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Um, great. Yeah. Awesome.” He’s babbling and he knows it but nothing can wipe the smile off his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Connor,” Freddie adds and there’s a wicked curve to his smile. “Take some pictures before you shower. I want to see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor flushes scarlet, ducking out of the room. He heads for the bathroom instead of the spareroom, eager to get in and get cleaned up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But first, he takes some photos.</span>
</p>
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